


Break With Tradition

by morganya



Category: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-19
Updated: 2007-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganya/pseuds/morganya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ted goes home. Thom follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break With Tradition

  
Ted had never described himself as being from Indiana, Thom thought. If he ever talked about home, he was referring to Chicago or even to Columbus, despite the fact that he'd spent a good quarter of his life in a suburb of Indianapolis, where his parents still lived. Thom thought it was maybe just that Ted had a slight identity crisis about his actual hometown from moving around so much. He felt the same way sometimes.

Nevertheless, Ted was going back to Carmel to plug the book, the first stop before gallivanting off around the country for the next few months. Thom was following him, just as a lucky break; he had a client in Indianapolis who was being difficult, and he had to go in and fix things.

This was the plan: Meet with client, soothe client's wounded ego or whatever it was, drive out to Carmel and pick up Ted after the book signing was over, then back to the hotel. It wasn't exactly an organizational nightmare. It was maybe kind of low on the 'supportive boyfriend' rung, but Ted said that he didn't mind.

He still felt kind of bad about not being able to go out and see Ted's family with him, but they weren't really at the 'meet my folks' stage yet. They'd even gotten separate hotel rooms as a formality.

Besides, from what Ted had said (obliquely, carefully, Ted always tried to reduce the appearance of tension), his parents were still a little uncomfortable with him being gay, which would have just made everything that much more difficult.

On Saturday, Thom spent four hours in Indianapolis trying not to strangle his client. By the time he managed to get halfway to persuading Geoffrey that marble columns weren't exactly the best idea for a living room, he was running late, and he wasn't all that sure that the directions he had were right, since he hadn't really paid attention to them.

Driving through Indiana oddly reminded him of being back in New York, driving upstate where the ground turned to farmland and the difference between grass and sky grew blurry. Indiana was landlocked; the horizon seemed endless. Thom almost missed the exit.

It was almost eight when he found the book store. Ted was leaning against the wall, one heel off the ground. He'd put on a suit that morning, crisply blue and put-together, but it had begun to wilt and he just looked rumpled and worn. Thom stopped the car and waved.

"I got lost."

"I am shocked," Ted said.

"It doesn't happen that often. I don't know my way around." Thom got out of the car. "Hi. How'd it go?"

"Well, it ran long, so I guess that's a good sign. A couple of my old high school friends came by. Brought their wives and everything. That was nice."

"Showing support."

"Yep." Ted started walking towards him. Thom opened his arms; Ted grabbed his shoulders, tightly, and pulled him close.

"Want any coffee?" Ted said when he came up for air. "They've got one of those café-on-the-go things inside."

"It any good?"

Ted considered. "Well..."

"I'll pass."

"Good idea."

"You hungry?"

"No. It's too late for food, anyway." Ted got into the car. "It's not really a late night kind of town."

Thom got back in and started the car. "We could go to IHOP. They have IHOPs here, right?"

"Well, it's not _Antarctica_, Thom. Why you would want to go there at all is the real question. Their sausages always taste weird to me."

"Because they have like four dozen different kinds of syrup, that's why."

"Well, that's it. I'm completely and totally convinced."

"Good. I'm thinking I might get lost again, Ted, so..."

"I'll be on the lookout."

"So how were your parents?" Thom said.

"Fine. I just went back to the house and we had lunch."

"How was that?"

"Mom's home cooking," Ted said, like that explained everything. "You always have to have that, don't you? It's like a requirement."

"Did they come to the signing with you?"

Ted shook his head. "You ever read Thomas Wolfe?"

"I think I read something when I was in college. You can't go home again, right?"

"Yeah. That's kind of a bunch of nonsense, isn't it? Thomas Wolfe was full of crap."

"Did something happen, Ted?"

Ted irritably switched off the radio, which had turned into static. "Nothing happened."

"You know -"

"Nothing happened," Ted said, in a tone that brooked no arguments.

"Okay," Thom said.

"How was the client?"

"Crack-headed, that's how. Forty year old Ranch house, and he wants me to turn the place into Julius Caesar's waiting room. He had _diagrams_."

"Think you can talk him down gently?"

"Either that or I'm going to be doing a lot of drinking over the next few months. I mean, money can't do everything, you know?"

"I doubt he knows that."

"I know he doesn't."

"You'd think they'd learn, Thom." Ted stared out of the window. "Hey, that's where I went to high school."

"Hmm?" Thom slowed down. Ted was looking at a sprawling complex of glass and brick, parking lot surrounding it like a moat. It looked dark and empty in the evening light.

"It looks a little different now, I guess," Ted said. "I think they added an extension or something about five years ago. Huh."

"It's huge, Ted," Thom said. It was hard to picture Ted in the building. It was hard to picture anyone in the building; the place looked like the worst possible case of industrial architecture, uninviting and overly utilitarian. "How'd you ever find your way around?"

"I couldn't tell ya," Ted said. "Maybe I brought maps or something."

"Let's go see it."

He'd seen a picture or two of Ted when he was younger, floating around in photo albums or in family pictures. There weren't very many; Ted had told him that he'd gotten rid of the more glaring photographic offenses against taste. Ted wasn't really the type to sit around and reminisce about his childhood.

Neither one of them were really much on nostalgia, he guessed. He wondered if it felt weird to Ted, too, if it ever felt like their lives hasn't existed before they met each other.

"Thom, you do know that it's eight o'clock at night, right?" Ted said.

"But I'm curious."

"This is the way horror movies start," Ted said darkly. "Wanderin' around some abandoned school..."

"It's not abandoned, it's just empty right now. I thought you'd like me showing an interest."

"But it's not even that interesting."

"It is to _me_, Ted."

"But it's probably all locked up by now." Ted didn't sound all that certain.

"It'll be fun."

"Is there anything I can say to convince you otherwise?"

"No."

"Oh. All righty then."

Thom pulled into the parking lot. Ted pointed at the trees that were speckled around, providing an illusion of greenery. "Never understood these. You'd always wind up tromping over the grass or something and it'd look like crap. I think my senior year someone actually backed into a tree trying to get out of the lot. It looked gouged." He swung his legs out of the car and waited for Thom.

"Someone should get the administration a book on environmental psychology," Thom said. "I mean, you need the right space if you want to learn."

"I don't think that was on their list of priorities." Ted started across the lot, glancing back in Thom's direction. He got to the front doors and waited for Thom to catch up.

"Well, open 'em up," Thom called.

"It's way too late for this," Ted said, half to himself. He put a hand on the door and tugged, yelping when it swung open. "Christ!"

Thom laughed.

"Not funny," Ted mumbled. "By all rights, this should be locked up. Anyone could get in. Case in point. You think this is breaking and entering?"

"It was already open. It'd be, like, just entering. How you doing over there, pumpkin? You okay?"

"It's just my dignity."

Thom walked with him into the darkened hallway, wondering if he should try to find a light switch. For a moment, all he could see was shadow. Ted sucked his breath in beside him.

"Shit."

"What?"

"I just thought...twenty years, I thought I'd have forgotten how to get around here."

"What -" His eyes were adjusting, sort of; he could see a row of what seemed to be lockers, pale gray and reaching out into the hall.

"Here. Let's get to a room." Ted reached for his hand. Thom, unused to following, shuffled behind him as Ted strode purposefully through the dark.

"How the hell do you know where to go?"

"I think it's sense memory," Ted said. "Didn't know I still had it."

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"I'll show you where I took Radio class. It should be around the corner."

"How do you take a Radio class?"

"We listened to a lot of Edward R. Murrow. Here." Ted pushed a door open, fumbled for a light. Thom winced at the fluorescent glare.

"Sorry," Ted said. "This is about it, Thom. Looks pretty bare right now."

Thom looked at the room, the basic lecture setup, the row of padlocked closets against the back wall, Ted sitting on one of the tables, tugging at his shirt cuffs. "Does it feel weird to be back?"

"It's weird thinking I was here for all that time."

"Well, it's not prison, Ted."

"I guess it just feels like that when you're younger. I can't remember who the guy was who taught this class. He said I asked too many questions."

Thom had a sudden picture of Ted as a kid, skinny and nervous and too smart for his own good, wandering through the halls. He sat down on the table next to Ted and slung an arm around his shoulders. Ted patted his leg absently.

"I never took Radio or whatever," Thom said. "I took a lot of art classes. Maybe this is where you decided to be a journalist."

"Yeah, maybe. Broadcasting the news and opinions of import nationwide. I think I was thinking more about passing tests, actually. I did a lot of that."

"Where'd you sit?"

"Over by the side." Ted scowled. "You know, I was thinking I must have forgotten most of this stuff. It's so petty."

"You've gotten all nostalgic in your old age."

Ted ignored him. "I wish I'd had something that was more interesting."

Thom looked over at the side of the room. He felt somewhere between curious and achingly protective of the kid Ted had been. "It's all right, you know."

"I'm thinking that my autobiography," Ted said, "will suck."

"Here," Thom said, and kissed him.

Ted started a little, hands falling onto Thom's knees. "Thom -" he managed. "This - this is a classroom setting -"

"So?"

"We can't -" Ted was weakening, leaning into Thom. "It's just -"

"It's like smoking in the boys' room, Ted. It's fine if you don't get caught."

"Thom, this - this is very nice, but -"

"Live a little, Ted."

"I can't." Ted pulled away reluctantly, keeping hold of his hand. "It's just - a little hard to reconcile, Thom. I'm just feeling about fifteen years old right about now."

"Yeah," Thom said. He could feel Ted's pulse racing. He swallowed. He wasn't sure if he felt disappointed or not. "Ted, what do you think we would have done if we'd known each other back then?"

"We were at least a couple of states away from each other back then, Thom."

"Ted, quit being literal. I mean..."

"I don't know, Thom. What do you think?"

"I knew everybody, you know. It was, like, a point of pride."

"Yeah," Ted said. "I guess I always just floated by." He stood up abruptly. "Let's get out of here. Remind me to shut the lights off."

Ted led him back through the darkened hallway, pushing the doors open. Outside it was just as dark as inside. Thom started walking back towards the car, wondering if anyone had ever raised the point that street lamps were a good idea.

The ride into Indianapolis took half an hour. Ted didn't point out any other landmarks.

"Want to come up?" Thom said, once he'd hit the Canterbury's parking garage. "Or do you want a drink?"

Ted blinked at him, as if he was just reorienting himself. "Yeah, I'm comin' up."

The hotel room looked like a stage set for a Merchant and Ivory film, complete with mahogany armoires and four poster bed. Thom immediately sprawled out on top of the covers, kicked off his shoes, and began rearranging the pillows.

"How many of these things do they think we _need_?" He tossed the excess pillows onto the chair by the bed, where they landed with a plop. "Oh, shit. Think the maids'll kill us in the morning?"

"It seems entirely likely." Ted stood, tugging at his tie. He looked pale and solemn, oddly monkish in the ornate room.

Thom considered the pillows. It was either leave them there, where he'd probably forget about them, or sleep on them and develop scoliosis. He looked up at Ted. "What do you think?"

"I think I hate hotel pillowcases," Ted said. "They always feel over-starched or something. It's not really the most comfortable thing to sleep on."

"I'll leave 'em there," Thom said. "You look like you need a blood transfusion, Ted."

"I'm fine." Ted sat down on the end of the bed, leaning his back against Thom's foot. "Hey, you wanted to be an architect, didn't you?"

"Yeah, at first."

"When did you change your mind about that? Was it like a sudden thing, or...?"

"Well, I don't think I exactly _changed my mind_, Ted. I'm just, like, building interiors now. It's in the same area."

"That makes sense." Ted rested a finger on Thom's big toe. "Where'd your socks go? You're going to get cold."

"I tossed them somewhere." Thom tensed and fought not to laugh; Ted was tracing a line down his foot, slowly and carefully. "Ted - that really - oh my God -"

"Sorry," Ted said. He leaned back, edging Thom's legs into a V, his head resting against the top of Thom's thigh. It was kind of freaking Thom out how still he was, and he wasn't sure if it was due to anything in particular or if it was just Ted going off into the distance somewhere.

"Hey," Thom said. "What's going on there?"

"Hmm?" Ted said. Thom put a hand on top of his head.

"Ted."

"So was that weird for you?" Ted said, like they'd just been having an entirely different conversation. "Wandering around the old alma mater?"

"We should've had flashlights," Thom said. "Or, like, torches and candles. Something."

"But not weird."

"I _liked_ seeing where you went to school," Thom said. "I mean, I'd like to see it in the daytime too. See where you used to sit at lunch or hang out and stuff."

"You know, it's been a good twenty years, Thom. Things've changed."

"Well, yeah," Thom said, laughing. "But, I mean, they haven't changed for you, Ted."

"No," Ted said softly. "I guess that's right."

For a moment he thought Ted had disappeared again. Not quite sure what he'd done, he just kept his hand on top of Ted's head, waiting for him to come back.

He felt Ted's hand on his thigh, smoothing out the muscles. It started off lightly, as if Ted was only using his fingertips, then spreading to his fingers, his palm, his entire hand. "I think you're trying to take advantage of me now, Ted."

Ted turned his face upwards, fumbling for his glasses with his free hand. "Oh?" he said casually, still stroking Thom's leg. "You think - you think it's working?"

"I don't know," Thom said. He sighed, as if this were very taxing. Ted trailed his fingers across his belly, sliding his hand down to rest at Thom's zipper. His palm was warm, even through the denim, forming its own curves around his cock. Thom reached for Ted's shoulder.

"C'mere," he said, a little hoarsely, a little shakier than he'd planned originally.

To his surprise, Ted just shook his head. He pushed his glasses aside and blinked up at Thom.

"But I'm comfy _here_."

Ted was already undoing his zipper. Thom wasn't sure whether to keep talking or do something else; he'd been thinking of what they could do, already jumping two steps ahead, but it seemed like Ted had other plans. The zipper was loud over Thom's quickened breathing.

Ted pulled his briefs down, neither eagerly nor overly slowly, just perfectly controlled, his hands hot and careful. Thom sucked in his breath as his cock pressed into Ted's hand.

"Well, hello there," Ted said softly.

There seemed like a fairly good chance that Ted would stop what he was doing if Thom kept on protesting, but he felt the need to try to assert himself before it got too late. He was approaching the point where it was getting difficult to think. "I -" he squeaked out, then cleared his throat. "I - I fuck _you_."

"Not tonight," Ted said. He touched warm fingers against the thin perineum skin; Thom felt his heart throb against Ted's pulse. "Not tonight."

Thom couldn't move, even if he wanted to. Ted wrapped saliva-slick fingers around his shaft, sucking at the head of his cock until Thom felt it swell, puffing against Ted's tongue. Somewhere at the back of his head he was thinking of all the things he should have thought about before - Should I have showered? Do I taste okay? - and he kept trying to reach for Ted's shoulder or his neck or something, but Ted just quietly accepted the caresses without pausing in what he was doing, leaving Thom without any defense whatsoever, laid open on the bed, flat on his back, pinioned.

He hadn't done this for years, not since he was just out of college, anyway. He always hated categorizing things - top, bottom, who the fuck cared - but the fact was that it was always easier to just think about what you were doing to the other guy rather than wind up lying on your back with all your worries coming out to play.

He still couldn't move. Ted pressed his thumb against his inner thigh, parting his legs wider, and Thom wished he wasn't being so fucking _quiet_, that he would just say something.

"Talk to me," he gasped, knotting his fingers around the padded hotel bedspread, "c'mon, just talk to me -"

Ted's mouth made a popping noise as he released his hold; Thom whimpered at the sudden rush of cold air. His cock shuddered and softened briefly under Ted's hand.

Ted's face suddenly softened, distant eyes coming into focus. His mouth was swollen. "Let me do this," he said hoarsely. "For tonight."

It was a little late for permission now, but Thom nodded anyway. Ted nudged against his leg like an affectionate cat.

"Here, sweetie," he said, and shrugged Thom's leg over his shoulder. Somehow the pressure eased off a little.

When he came, arching off the bed, crying short and sharp, Ted slid out from under his leg. For a moment, he stayed between Thom's legs, considering. He patted Thom's stomach.

"I'm thinking I should probably brush my teeth now." He swung himself off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Thom lay on the bed and tried to decide if he felt satisfied or just resentful. He jerked his pants back up.

The water ran in the bathroom. Thom lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, until the bathroom door shut and Ted hopped back onto the bed, sprawling perpendicular, his head on Thom's stomach.

"How was that?" Thom said.

"Nice." Ted had one arm flung over his chest. Absently, he pushed up Thom's shirt and began playing with his stomach, manicured fingernails cool and slick against his skin.

"Quit it," Thom said sharply.

Ted looked up, startled. "What?"

"You know."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Thom said. He wasn't sure anything was terribly wrong, he just felt weird, out of place, like he was meant to do something else. "That was really okay, right? It's just..."

"Thom," Ted scolded gently. "Don't tell me that bothered you."

"It didn't," Thom said. "I'm just...Y'know, I read that if you eat pineapple or something, it makes it taste sweeter. Fruit or whatever."

"You know, Thom, I'm fairly certain that no matter what you eat, it's still gonna taste pretty much like come."

"And that's okay with you, right? I wasn't, you know..."

"You were fine." Ted rubbed his cheek against Thom's stomach. "I just, you know. Needed to do that."

"It just feels like...I wasn't supposed to do that. I should have done something else."

"You mean you should have done what you usually do."

"Yeah."

"Can't get stuck in a rut." Ted rolled one finger below Thom's navel, chin propped up on his hip. "You know that I was supposed to be an accountant, Thom?"

"Huh?"

"What I was meant to do for the rest of my life. Almost happened, too."

Thom didn't say anything. Ted turned his head to the side; if Thom looked down all he could see was a light brown head resting on his stomach.

"I mean, it didn't," Ted said. "I didn't. Get a steady job. Get married. Kids. Quit gallivanting around."

Suddenly Thom understood that something was happening, something that had nothing to do with him, and the relief was extraordinary. He reached for Ted's shoulder. "You would've been a shitty accountant."

"I know. I've been saying that for years. You'd think it would've sunk in by now." Ted sighed. "I wish you could come with me for this tour. I'm going to need a mental institution by the end of it."

"I can send you, like, porn and Valium through the mail."

"Yeah, that could work."

"Maybe I could follow you around the country in a van. Like for a Phish show."

"Better. I'll buy a lot of tie-dye."

"Come up from there, all right? I'm getting a crick in my neck."

Ted quietly took his head off Thom's stomach and straightened up, leaning against Thom's collarbone. "Hey there," Thom said.

"Hey," Ted said. "When are you going back?"

"Tomorrow sometime." Thom felt groggy, trying not to drift off to sleep. "We'll go for breakfast, right?"

"Mm-hm." The pipes in the bathroom hissed. Ted curled closer to him.

"How're you doing over there, Ted?"

"Okay."

"Glad you came back?"

"I think so." Ted ran his hand over Thom's chest. "I think I'll be glad to go somewhere else, though, too. I mean, it's not like I hate it or something, it's just..."

"Not where you want to spend the rest of your life."

"No."

"Hey, Ted? Where do you think you want to spend the rest of your life?"

Ted considered for a moment, hand still on Thom's chest. "It seems like it keeps changing, I guess. I'm only just getting used to Chelsea. Weird as that sounds."

"I haven't settled down," Thom said, yawning. "It's hard."

"I know. Maybe we should just throw a dart at a map. Pick a place."

"About time, anyway."

"Mm." Ted lay quietly beside him, feeling strong and sharp as Thom started to fall asleep. Just before his eyes closed, he heard Ted whisper, "I just never thought I'd be here with you before."


End file.
